Heheh...hopefully you guys have realized by now that I update approximately...once a year. Sorry...just not that into Twilight anymore :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

A New Story Begins...

BPOV

I jumped to my feet, and Edward glanced at me.

"Oh, the glaze in your eyes is gone. Funny, that must mean you have your memory back." Edward said.

I blinked. Wait, HE KNEW? He KNEW that I lost my memory, and he didn't say ANYTHING AT ALL?

I ran towards him, and my body reacted instinctively. My left foot came out in a kick, and my hands curled into fists protecting my face from harm. Edward casually sidestepped the kick, and Jacob seized the chance to rush out and attack him. He wasn't very graceful, though. His russet hands reached out and locked around Edward's neck. He squeezed, and Edward reached up and pushed with two fingers on each hand into Jacob's neck. Hard.

Jacob fell back, unconscious and I grabbed the opportunity to attack again from behind. I ran towards him, and he bent down slightly. In my shock, my hands moved instinctively to push down on his shoulders as I jumped over him, leap-frog style. I landed, then whipped around.

Why was I fighting Edward?

Panting, I asked, "What...was that?"

He smiled, a godly smile and responded, "Oh, that was a mongrel from our enemies' side...in Russia."

I glared at him. "Not that, I mean the memory loss, and the fighting, and the pressure point neck thing!"

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "The pressure point neck thing?"

Surprising myself, I growled. "Yess, the pressure point neck thing, and the Emmett in the hallway thing as well!"

He turned to face the (broken) windows and waved his hand at me. "It's a long story. As in, very long. Pretty much your life story up until you were...say..." he trailed off and mumbled to himself. "Well, say that was about 2 years ago? Or was it 3 years ago? Maybe if it...well, I'm 21, which means that she would be...20? So 2 years ago would've been...she was 18! ...or 17."

Then louder, he said, "It's your life story up until you were 17. Or 18. I'm not exactly sure..."

He walked to the white couch, and brushed off unseen dust. Then he pulled a piece of glass out of the seat and sat down. He patted the spot next to him.

"Like I said, it is quite a long story. You may want to sit down for this."